Ok here's where I apologize. So sorry guys, I didn't mean to take so long to update. I knew I'd have limited time to write last week but I didn't think I'd get screwed so very badly. Also, BVS Ultimate Edition stole a day. My bad... Then the holiday! Gah! But to make amends I now have a longer chapter that moves things along, yay!

Thanks for all the support, kudos and comments guys, it means a lot. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Chapter 6

"Master Wayne," Alfred's voice drifted down the stairs.

Bruce didn't answer. He stood in front of the vault, taking in his suit and a new occupant now held securely in a bracket installed into the wall.

The Kryptonite spear stood at attention next to his suit. Bruce had pulled it from Doomsday and hidden it before the military arrived on the scene. He had created it, so he should hide it away again, safe from the government or anyone else's bad intentions. He had considered destroying it, but with Superman gone there didn't seem to be a point anymore. Now it was a safeguard. A reminder.

He reached out a finger and thumb to feel the end of the green spear tip, then dropped his hand to his side. It did nothing to his skin. It didn't affect him at all. But what he may have to do with it could affect him for the rest of his life. He'd already come too close.

He wanted to honor Superman's memory and the symbol of hope he was. It was frightening to imagine Clark Kent may have resurrected as everything he had never been before. Bruce now hated the idea of having to be the one to kill Superman. But if he had to, he would. For the world.

Was this his destiny? His punishment? Inescapable, unrelenting, bound to happen no matter how the events came together? It felt like the dream was crowding into reality.

Footsteps echoed down the stairwell. Diana had returned after dropping Lois at her apartment. She was already dressed for battle, her Amazon armor gleaming in the low light, lasso swinging gently on her hip. Bruce knew what she would say before the words emerged.

"Alfred is looking for you. Facial recognition got a hit. It gives us a place to start."

Bruce nodded but said nothing. He didn't turn around, just kept looking into the vault. Diana moved to stand next to him and she too considered the suit and the weapon alongside it. Though he was careful not to show it Bruce was inwardly glad she could read him well enough to know what he was thinking already. He didn't want to verbalize it.

"What did you tell me the day of the funeral?" Diana had a serious look on her face as she looked his way, dark eyes concerned.

Bruce's eyes flicked her direction and returned. He didn't need to search his memory. The words were never far from his thoughts now. It was his mantra. The continual reminder of what Superman had helped him to see again.

"Men are still good." He stared into the empty cowl.

Diana nodded, then turned to him fully. "I believed you."

Her look asked him if he still did. He deliberated, cynicism and hope taking hold in equal measure. But he said nothing, so Diana moved to the stairs, turning back halfway there to add one more thing.

"We need to go find him. Whatever happens next, this is a step we must take." She moved up the stairs with easy grace, clearly expecting him to change and follow.

Bruce considered the tip of the spear again. The truck driver had called Clark a nice guy at least twice. Clark had protected him with his own body, exactly what Bruce would expect from him. He wasn't flying. He wasn't presenting himself to loved ones. Whatever was changed, he didn't seem like a tyrannical dictator yet. Bruce still desperately wanted to believe that men were good, and that the best one was Clark Kent.

Bruce changed into his Batman suit and closed the vault. And when he did, he left the spear locked securely inside.

It was late as he wandered the streets of Gotham, aimless now. After walking to his destination he had arrived to find that nothing looked familiar. He now had nowhere to go, no plan to put in play. He explored shabby neighborhoods and tenements, followed streets that fed into busier commercial areas.

He roamed the downtown area as hours passed. He noticed the Gotham Police Department, but it didn't ring any significant bells. He watched as the rush of people and traffic ebbed into the few who were late, hurrying home to their families.

He tried to ignore the building pain that was slowly progressing up his skull, and he had to shut down his sensory perception a great deal due to the many noises that assaulted him upon entering Gotham City. There were too many yelling voices, too many city sounds that echoed though it. He wanted to keep listening for a specific sound, but since he didn't know what it was he had to admit defeat and withdraw. It frustrated him, as did the persistent feeling of nervous, on edge wariness.

He watched the city as it came to life again once nightclubs and raucous crowds began to appear. He kept moving as music pounded into the night. Now and then a jeering group would yell abuse, making fun of his glasses and suit coat, secure in their numbers. But after the car incident he wasn't afraid of them. He was more worried about something else. He needed to find something else.

Eventually it was two in the morning and bars were closing, ejecting rowdy and stumbling drunks into the streets. They too dispersed, and though he watched groups move away in various directions he tried to listen for sounds of trouble just in case, but eventually he couldn't ignore the pain in his skull.

He ducked into an alley for privacy, leaning on a nearby dumpster for a moment. Then he removed his glasses to rub his eyes briefly; they were starting to ache. He still felt anxious, out of sorts. The pain in his head was getting worse than before. Did that mean his memory was trying to return? He finished rubbing his eyes, head bowed, and moved to put his glasses back on before pausing to look at them again, considering. He laid them aside on the lid of the dumpster in front of him. He didn't need them anyway.

Looking down he realized he had gone all day wearing his jacket and tie, even when asleep in Paul's truck. It hadn't bothered him before, but it did now. It felt confining and restrictive in his current state. He pulled his tie out of its knot and slid it from his collar, then dropped it next to his glasses. It felt good so he went one step further and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. His suit coat went next. He thumbed open the remaining buttons and shrugged it off, accidentally ripping a few more seams in his haste to feel less closed in. He dropped it next to the others.

Absently he considered his shirt, noting that it too had once been clean and pressed, before he spent an entire day in it. After a moment he realized he still felt confined. The shirt was the correct size for him, it wasn't too small and it wasn't the problem. He ran a hand down his shirt front and realized there was something on him underneath it. He'd had so many layers on he hadn't realized, or maybe it just felt natural to be dressed this way. Nevertheless, his curiosity was burning. In moments he had unbuttoned his shirt and added it to the pile. After some open-mouthed staring, his trousers and shoes completed the transformation. He looked down at himself, speechless.

Skin-tight blue fabric stretched over well-defined muscles. A soft fluttering at his back drew his attention as a crimson cape, once carefully folded to lay against his back underneath his shirt, now unfurled and fell to its proper position. It was full length, soft folds down his back to his feet, billowing ever so slightly on a small breeze.

He spread his hands and looked down at himself, taking it all in. And he knew with certainty that he had performed this motion before. But it still didn't dampen the sense of wonder, momentarily crowding out the anxiety and frustration.

Until he looked directly down and found the one element that was jarringly out of place.

A jagged tear marred the shield on his chest, interrupting the "S". He slowly ran his fingers over it, feeling the edges of shredded rent fabric and into the split that gaped open to reveal skin. The gap was large, the area a wound had once existed was at least a few inches wide and twice as long. He rubbed his forefinger over the space. It felt numb and painful all at once, the skin smoother than surrounding areas. It was a scar.

He did bleed, then.

Just looking at it, feeling it brought up a crashing flood of emotions. Fear and pain, loss and gut-wrenching determination all rolled through him, colliding with each other and rising with chaotic urgency. He was immediately, unbearably worried and troubled. He needed to find something he couldn't identify. Something so important. He looked around him, taking in the alley way and empty street beyond. All he could picture was a desolate war zone, lit in fire and broken buildings. This place was far from that.

He could hear the roaring sound of something huge and terrifying, so real that he immediately assumed a defensive stance, expecting to see buildings toppling under the onslaught of energy waves. His heart was pounding in his chest painfully, making the scar stretch and pulse. Somewhere he could hear the sounds of fighting; the clank of armor or a sword, and a distant thumping sound he immediately equated with distress.

He moved along the alley in a rush, unsure what was real anymore, following the sounds as fast as he could.

The world was in danger.

Bruce's batmobile still only seated one, but he had rebuilt his plane to seat two. He and Diana made sure they had working transmitters and took note of the location of the ATM camera that had caught Clark's face clearly enough to be recognized. It was in the seamier side of town, populated with nightclubs and other entertainment. Bruce stared at the image, sure it was Clark but unable to read an expression.

Bruce and Diana headed out, but not before Bruce gave Alfred a loaded look to put the older man at ease. Diana asked him to call Lois with the update. Alfred watched them go feeling much less trepidation than he had earlier. Especially when his check of the vault showed him that the spear was still inside.

He settled himself at the console and brought up the screen showing both Bruce and Diana's location, currently still inside the plane. Bruce was looking for a good place to touch down unnoticed. Alfred listened in on their conversation with mild interest. Diana was giving parking advice that Bruce was less than receptive to. If Alfred imagined it just right, they could be a comfortable married couple. It was as close to settling down that Bruce Wayne might ever get.

Alfred sighed. He'd take it.

Lois entered the apartment, and had the sudden urge to walk back out again.

Clark wasn't here. She could sense it. Not a thing was disturbed from where she had left it on her way to Martha. The space was still, dark, and devoid of life.

Lois let her bag sag to the floor, unable to hold back the disappointment. She had so wanted him to be here. But even her deep desire to see him again couldn't ignore the facts that were wrong. He hadn't gone to see Martha. He hadn't come straight here. There was something wrong.

Maybe he wasn't coming here. Was he alive but never going to come home, never going to show himself to the world again? Was he walking away from their life together, or was he not the same Clark Kent she'd fallen in love with? Her mind's eye pictured him going back to his days of wandering and odd jobs, before he'd revealed himself to the world and become the target of so much hate. But surely he wouldn't do that and never see his mother, or her?

Too many questions, too much doubt. Lois threw her bag on the couch in frustration and paced back and forth. Possibilities ran through her head, looking for any lead she could track, any option she had of finding him. There weren't many, especially if he didn't want to be found. Why would he not want to be found?

Eventually she realized almost an hour had passed while she thought things through. She still needed to do something. It was late but she didn't want to go to bed. She needed some air. She left the apartment and headed for the stairs to the roof.

The cell phone in her bag rang minutes after the door shut behind her.

Bruce and Diana didn't expect Clark to be near the ATM camera, so they weren't surprised when a cursory search of the area yielded little. But they knew he had been here and how long it had been since the camera caught him, so they split up to search the surrounding blocks and moved in opposite directions. They moved quietly and speedily, hoping to find him in the quiet hours before the early morning businesses got started. It was the best possibility, being able to handle things without many witnesses or interference. The last thing Bruce wanted was the public eye focused on any of them.

Bruce was on a rooftop, using the vantage point to scour alleys below when Diana's voice came through his transmitter.

"I found clothes in an alley, and a pair of glasses. They look like his."

Bruce paused for a moment in surprise, wondering if there was now a naked Clark Kent on the loose. A movement caught his eye, flitting past in the periphery of his vision. He moved to the edge of the roof to investigate.

Superman was rushing down the alley below, cape flitting behind him, moving straight toward him.

"I got him!" Bruce immediately shot his grappling hook into the opposite building and swung across, moving down a level and then down. He landed directly in front of Superman, his face in shadow with the light behind him. Superman came to an abrupt halt, but every line of his body indicated his tension. He surveyed Batman warily. Bruce held still, noting that Superman's hands had curled into fists at his sides. Bruce looked him up and down, taking in the gash in the suit that remained.

"We've been looking for you," his mechanically altered voice rumbled in the alley, sounding far more threatening than he intended it.

Superman's jaw clenched, but he didn't move. His eyes flitted back and forth as if searching for something. Bruce watched, somewhat confused and definitely wary.

"Do you hear that?" Superman's tone was serious.

Bruce strained his ears for any kind of sound. Nothing. "Hear what?"

Superman's face tightened, almost wincing, before he spoke again. He hid it quickly, but Bruce could hear the strain in his voice with his next words. "The world...is in danger."

Bruce almost breathed a sigh of relief. He dropped his guard, eager to get Superman on board for whatever was coming. He forgot about his misgivings, he forgot about his dreams. He moved forward in a rush. If Superman was sensing something that he couldn't, Bruce wanted to know about it immediately.

"Yes. Yes it is. You need to come w—"

But the rest of his words were cut off as his hand made contact with Superman's shoulder.

"No! The world is in danger now!" Superman's reflex was so sudden and quick Bruce didn't see it coming, only felt the sudden jarring pain in his chest as Superman halted his progress with an open palm and sent him sailing backward. He hit the side of a building, flattening against it the full length of his back for a moment before he slid down it, unable to breathe, gasping like a fish out of water.

Barely able to function, Bruce did his best to scramble to his feet but only managed to flop weakly onto his side, his eyes trained on Superman to assess for further threat.

But Superman wasn't advancing on him. Instead he was gazing at him in horror, hands on both sides of his head and mumbling to himself. He stared upwards as if wanting to escape.

"No...no...I don't know...I can't...the world...not the world...my world..."

He looked at Bruce and then back at the sky. His attention was diverted for a moment as he looked behind him, and that seemed to make up his mind. He stood for a moment and braced himself, and then Superman launched himself into the sky and flew away.

Bruce struggled to breathe, the edges of his vision dimming as he fought unconsciousness, caught between reality and memories. The ache in his chest felt too familiar, just like when Superman has crushed his heart in the dream. The sound of power and rushing wind that accompanied the alien's flight seemed to usher in his worst fears. Superman was lost. The world was in danger.

Oh God, it's happening, it's happening now. He's not the same, it's happening just like it did. It was the future I saw...

"Bruce! Bruce! You got the wind knocked out of you, you need to breathe slowly. Just relax, relax..." Diana was there, quickly assessing him for major injury, relaying details over her transmitter to Alfred.

Bruce groaned as he tried to relax his seizing muscles and breathe, the ache in his chest alleviated somewhat, his mind racing. He didn't have the major protection of the suit he'd worn to fight Superman, but it was lucky he had reinforced the chest and torso plates of his usual suit, now that he was aware that much more powerful beings existed. His chest still hurt, but it wasn't serious. Finally he could breathe well enough to sit up. Diana helped him to his feet.

"What happened?"

Bruce shook his head. "He's not the same Clark Kent. Something is very wrong with him, he kept talking about the world being in danger," he paused to breathe a moment more, "and when I tried to get him to come with me he pushed me back. He flew away." He made a vague gesture in the direction Superman had flown.

Diana frowned. "What's wrong with him? How do we find him now?"

Alfred was silent on the transmitter, so he clearly had no leads. Bruce tried to gather his thoughts and separate reality and dream. He pulled back the hazy recollection of Superman's babble before he left. But only two recalled words made the blood drain from his face as he made the connection.

My world...she was my world...

Lois was the key. Bruce could practically feel the world crumbling into chaos and desolation around him.

"Alfred, call Lois right now."

"I already tried ten minutes ago. She didn't answer."

"Call her again." Bruce turned to Diana, who immediately grasped the urgency in Bruce's behavior as they headed back to the plane at a dead run. "We need to get to Lois. Now."

Superman's panicked flight into the sky didn't end in Gotham. He climbed higher and higher, the pain in his skull building unbearably, his thoughts whirling, memories colliding with fear and horror.

He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. The black bat might be a threat to him, but his feeling of urgency in following the sound was of greater importance. He'd thought it was going to end in a fight once he recognized the figure as he landed in front of him. The one who had asked him if he bled. But he had tried to get the other to understand the bigger problem. Once the other had rushed at him he had reacted instinctively, spurred on by the urgency he still felt. The world was in danger. Still, it wasn't until he sensed approaching footsteps that he felt it was safe to leave him. Flying had been instinct, natural as breathing once he was wearing only this suit.

But the more he thought about it and the more he allowed memories to creep in despite the pain in his head, the more he had realized that it wasn't the world. It was his world. His world was distressed, his world in danger. But he still wasn't sure what the difference was.

He pushed to the upper atmosphere before he was calm enough to realize that he couldn't hear the sound anymore. All of the sounds were gone, but lack of the one that was the most important was what turned him around and brought him back to earth. He flew back to Gotham and hovered above it, carefully opening his senses, ignoring the pain in his head, seeking that one sound.

Finally he caught it, but it wasn't in Gotham. He followed it, flying closer to and then into Metropolis. He passed a large open area and buildings that brought prickles of memory, but he pushed them away to keep following the sound. Eventually it brought him to a multi-storied old brick building. It was so close. The sound, that pattern of lub-dub that he felt had embedded itself in his mind forever ago, was accelerated and even the sound of it troubled him. He paused, poised in the sky, to locate the final destination, and then moved to meet it.

When he finally located the source he stood speechless and surprised for several moments. He could never have anticipated what it would be.

Lois didn't come up to the roof very often. She was too busy working, chasing a story or lately, a metahuman. Besides, she had never really appreciated the charm of a rooftop stargazing session until Clark coaxed her up one warm summer evening, teasing her that she worked too hard and needed to enjoy life. They had sat together on cheap lawn chars left for tenants who needed some air, and he had held her hand while he pointed to various stars and constellations. He told her how he used to lay in the yard as a boy on the farm, studying the night sky. Especially after he had learned how his parents had found him. He had studied each star and wondered where he came from and who he really was.

Those questions had been answered, but it didn't help Lois know where he was now. Lois studied the stars hopelessly. Clark wasn't out there. She had been sure she would find him by now. Or that he would find her.

She didn't sit in the lawn chairs. She stood in the center of the roof, unable to commit to a real visit to this place. In the end, after too long left to her own thoughts, too many doubts and worries, Lois just sank to her knees.

She felt pushed down by the loss of Clark a second time. The pain and despair she had felt kneeling with his head in her lap overwhelmed her, pushing to the fore until she realized her eyes were full of tears. She closed them and felt them spill, hot and scalding, down her cheeks. She didn't know what to do anymore. She didn't know why he wouldn't come home.

Her eyes were closed, and so she didn't notice the whisper of wind that blew up, nor did she see the red boots that gently touched down in front of her. So when she opened her eyes, she was unprepared for the sight of Superman standing there, an indescribable look on his face.

Her gasp of surprise was the only sound between them. They looked at each other as the silence stretched. Her disbelieving joy gave way to worry as she took in his face. He was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before, but there was something indefinable in his eyes. A yearning desperation. A profound confusion. It was him, but it wasn't.

She looked at him, really taking him in, now slightly wary. "Clark?"

He could feel it, the cusp of everything he didn't know, ready to unfurl into forgotten memories. He was so close, looking at her. But the pain that had been building for so long behind his eyes was finally coming to a head, and it took him by surprise when it finally peaked.

Heat vision burst out of his eyes, and it was only the last minute jerk of his head that saved her. It scorched the roof until he put a hand in front of it, burned himself, and focused skyward instead.

But suddenly everything was chaos around them at the same time. Lois had cried out in surprise and fear, not expecting to be on the receiving end of heat vision. But before she had even completed the sound her remaining breath was yanked from her lungs as Batman grappled in and out, taking her with him. As she watched, her vision shaky and jerking with the swinging motion, she could see Diana had moved in on Clark and thrown her lasso around his arms, pulling it tight to restrain him. He turned her way, and Diana threw up her shield to deflect the searing twin beams.

"What are you doing?" Lois yelled at Bruce, struggling against his grip. "Clark's down there!" They were on the ledge of the next building over, and he was taking aim at another one, working to get them higher.

"He's not who he was!"

They grappled higher to the roof of yet another building before he deemed it safe enough to look back. Lois threw off his hand, craning to look at the roof they had just left. Clark's heat vision had given out for a moment, and Lois could see Diana was attempting to talk to him. But Clark was barely listening to her, and he was too busy straining at his bonds to give her words any weight. Lois could see the strength he was exerting even from here, and his face was aimed at Lois.

"Let me...go!" Clark's bellow echoed out to Lois. Diana was bracing against the lasso, doing her best to hold him in place, but it was a precarious position at best. What if Clark flew away? Diana could get hurt. Lois turned to Bruce.

"Let me talk to him."

Bruce immediately shook his head. "No. He attacked me, we can't take the chance. He just tried to kill you! He's not the man he was. I don't know who this is." He was poised, trying to decide if Diana needed his help or not, and how they were going to handle this. He had to keep Lois safe, but he also had to neutralize the threat. He feared Superman now, just as the messenger had told him to, and what the future could be. He needed to end this now.

"He didn't! I think he was as surprised as I was! He turned his head. Clark would never hurt me, he's always been there for me every t—" She stopped abruptly. Bruce wasn't listening anyway, and she had a sudden thought.

Perry had rolled his eyes at how often Superman had saved her, and he didn't know the half of it. But Clark had always been there to catch her, and if there was any bit of him in there, he still would. Lois knew what she had to do.

She took three big steps to the edge of the roof and hurled herself off it.

Bruce caught sight of her movement on the second step. Years of developed reflexes came into play as he moved instinctively after her. He grappled a hook into the wall next to them and in the same motion dove the last few feet of the roof, managing to catch an arm in the last remaining second. He lay there, pulled in two different directions, one hand holding the grappling gun and the other dangling halfway off the roof into thin air, gripping Lois Lane.

"What are you doing?" His voice was overflowing with disbelieving shock.

Lois spared a glance back to Clark and Diana. Clark was close to pulling free, and Diana was severely hampered in her efforts not to hurt him. Things were going to go bad any moment. There was no more time. She turned to look up at Bruce, her eyes spitting blue fire. "Let go!"

Bruce stared at her, part of him realizing what she was trying to accomplish but the other terrified that this was how it all went down. This could be the start of it all. He was frozen for long seconds that felt like an eternity, feeling as if this moment was inescapable. Maybe there was no way to avoid it. He had helped bring them here, and he had helped make this happen. He and Lex Luthor.

Still, Lois was the key. Did he trust her? Did he save her? He didn't know which one was right. He did know one thing. If and when he met that future messenger, he was going to punch him hard. All the message had done was make him second guess every move after Clark's death.

But it didn't change what it all had taught him. Men were still good. Clark had died believing that, and Bruce would die fighting for it. Whatever happened. The echoing message from the future overwhelmed his mind as he looked into the determined face of Lois Lane. Lois Lane was the key.

He closed his eyes. And then he let go.

However many times she had fallen, Lois never liked the swooping sensation that came with realizing there was nothing underneath to hold her. She couldn't stop the scream that was pulled from her body as she dropped, but maybe that was for the better. Clark's head snapped up immediately, and any effort he'd been expending to breaking the lasso quickly turned to shedding it. His lurching desperation to take flight resulted in Diana being pulled suddenly to her knees, and the resulting slack allowed him to slip out of it and take to the sky.

He intercepted Lois halfway down and shot straight up, the two of them clutched together, rising higher and higher, passing Bruce on his rooftop and finally slowing just above a much taller one. Clark slowly drifted them down to land on their feet, his eyes never leaving her face. Once they were both on their feet he looked down at her, taking in her hopeful face. She could see his eyes clearing, becoming more and more the way he had looked at her as Clark Kent, even as the dawning horror of the latest events dawned on him. He sank to his knees, weak as everything came together in his head, and she went with him.

"Lo—Lois, I'm sorry." He was giving her that worried look, that Clark Kent look.

Relief flooded her. She gave him a smile, teary but happy. "For what? You came back to me." Her hands held each side of his face, her thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. God, she had missed him so much. Her eyes were caught by the gaping hole in his suit, and she moved a hand from his face to touch it gently, soberly.

His hidden memory flowed into place as he held her, bringing up his own hand to caress her cheek. Lex Luthor and the fight with Batman, Doomsday and his final choice ran through his head. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, breathing heavily. His world. His Lois. He didn't know what he'd be without her.

Her eyes rose up to meet his, understanding clear on her face, and it was perfectly natural to kiss her. They held each other a few moments more until finally he moved to stand up and help her to her feet. He looked down at Diana far below, now relaxed and coiling her lasso, smiling up at them, and Bruce, who was still leaning out over his building, holding onto the grappling hook and watching them closely. Clark gave Lois a quizzical look.

"How long have I been gone?"

She laughed, still overcome. "Too long, Clark. Too long." She kissed his cheek.

Down below, Bruce had seen enough to put his mind at ease. Clark Kent was back, and he was really Clark Kent. He was moving to pull himself in, adding extra stress on the grappling line and the wall it was embedded in, when the hook burst out of the wall. The weak bricks and mortar of the building had been barely holding him up, and the strain was now too much. He was suddenly in motion, flipping out and off the building and into the air, arms flailing. Clark made a move to fly and Diana was already running to attempt an interception when Bruce managed to grab a fire escape railing. He slammed into the rail, growling with pain, but hauled himself up and over to safety. He stood, bent over and breathing heavily, still gripping the railing, but it was enough to put the others at ease.

Clark was slowly descending with Lois in his arms to meet Diana when Bruce put together what could have happened. He glanced up at the building his grappling hook had burst out of and realized with the added weight of another person it would have given way much sooner. Had he hesitated much longer, he and Lois could have gone flying. Being who he was, he probably still would have saved himself, but Lois might not have fared so well. He wouldn't have been able to reach her. Clark might not have been able to free himself soon enough, or been distracted with the two of them. Lois might have hit her head on a fire escape or fallen much further to the pavement. She could have died.

A chill swept Bruce as he considered how easily things could have gone bad. Maybe they could have had that future after all.

Now he wasn't sure whether to be angry at the future messenger or thank him.

I think this story is drawing to a close, I can foresee one chapter more to wrap things up. I'll try to get it done pronto with much less waiting. :) Thanks for reading!